


Tribute and Sacrifice (mean too much in this world)

by TheLoreleiQueen



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Gen, Slow Build, add more characters later, add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:53:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoreleiQueen/pseuds/TheLoreleiQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico di Angelo lives with his two sisters in a small run down house in District Twelve. When his whole world changes on reaping day for the annual Hunger Games, he's gotta figure out what's most important; family, or keeping himself alive.</p><p>I'm gonna change the summary later, this one sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tribute and Sacrifice (mean too much in this world)

PART I  
The Tributes

 

1  
When he wakes, Hazel’s side of the bed is cold.  
He reaches out his fingers to her side, feeling the rough canvas mattress cover and cool sheets. She must have had bad dreams last night. He glances over to Bianca’s bed to see if Hazel has crawled into bed with her and- yes, she has, of course she has, it’s the day of the reaping. Nico props himself up on one elbow, peering over at them. There is just enough morning light to see them, Hazel curled up against Bianca’s body, Bianca’s cheek pressed into Hazel’s hair, their arms around each other, breathing in synchronisation.  
In sleep, Bianca looks younger, more carefree, like she had before their parents died and she had to look after two younger kids, while still a teen herself. Hazel looks innocent and calm, an expression Nico doesn’t see very often on her tired face. Sitting on Hazel’s knees is the world’s most hyperactive cat, Sammy. He adores Hazel, and has gotten her out of trouble a few times, which is the only reason Nico let him stay. He doesn’t like the mangy cat, and he’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual, as the only time Sammy doesn’t hiss at him is when he’s feeding him the entrails from a cleaned kill. Entrails, no hissing. That’s the closest they’ll ever come to love, Nico knows that. Nico’s pretty sure Sammy at least vaguely remembers when Hazel first brought him home and Nico tried to drown him in a bucket (in Nico’s defence, he’d been sick almost to the point of dying, belly covered in worms, and Nico really didn’t need another mouth to feed). Hazel had begged to keep him alive, and Nico eventually gave in. Hazel nursed Sammy back to health, and he’d been attached to her ever since.   
Nico swings his legs out of bed, sliding them into pants and soft, supple leather hunting boots. He pulls on a shirt hanging on the back of the chair and pulls his hair into a small knot at the nape of his neck before pulling a cap onto his head, to hide his face. He grabs his forage bag and heads to the kitchen, where he takes out a small, perfectly round piece of goat’s cheese, wrapped in basil leaves (Hazel’s present to him on reaping day), from its hiding place under a wooden bowl. He places it carefully in his coat pocket after pulling his coat on. It’s a thin coat, not very good for keeping out the cold, but its waterproof and it was his father’s, so he always wears it whenever he leaves the district. He slips outside into the crisp air and dim light, taking a deep breath before marching for the fence.  
His part of the district, nicknamed Asphodel, is usually teeming with mine workers at this early hour, men and women who have long since given up on remembering a life beyond the mines, given up on scrubbing the dirt and dust out of their nails, skin, and teeth. Men and women who have just simply given up.   
This morning, however, the shutters on the low grey houses are closed. The coal-black streets are deserted. There’s no one around. The reaping isn’t til two- may as well sleep in if you can.   
The tiny house (hovel) Nico shares with his sisters is near the edge of Asphodel, and he only has to walk past a few houses before reaching the Field of Asphodel, a scruffy, muddy expanse of grass separated from the woods by a high-wire electric fence, topped off with barbed wire loops. In theory, it’s meant to be live twenty-four hours a day, as a deterrent to anything in the woods- wild dogs, bears, lone cougars- that might get ideas about coming close to the district and the people living there. But since there’s generally a few hours of electricity to Asphodel a night, the fence generally safe to touch. Even so, Nico follows the advice his father gave him years ago, and always listens for the tell-tale hum saying the fence is buzzing. Nico’s lucky- at that moment, it’s silent as the grave.  
Nico flattens himself onto his belly behind a clump of bushes and stone and crawls under this patch of the fence, about a metre long that had been loose for years. Nico knew of several other weak spots in the fence- he just preferred this one because it was closest to his home, which meant he was closer to his sisters.   
When he passes the first trees and enters the woods, he heads to a hollow log and retrieves the bow and arrows that he stashed there last time he was out here. Although the fence might not be electrified 24/7, Nico knew it had done a fine job of keeping predators out of District 12. In the woods they roamed about freely, alongside added concerns like poisonous snakes, rabid animals, and no real forest trails. But there is also plenty of food- if you know how to find it. Nico’s father had taught him and Bianca when they were both children, just after their mother died of a virus, just after their dad had another daughter with another woman who died in childbirth, and just before he got blown to bits in a mining explosion. There was nothing left to bury. Three years later, Nico sometimes still woke up screaming, begging his dad not to go.  
Although trespassing in the woods is illegal, and poaching is punishable by execution, Nico knew a lot of people would risk it if they had a better weapon than a simple knife. Nico had a few bows and well-made hunting knives stashed in various places throughout the forest that his father had made. They would sell well, Nico knew, but he didn’t dare. He would be publicly executed if he was caught, for arming a ‘resistance’ in Asphodel. Although the Peacekeepers turned a blind eye to Nico’s hunting- mainly because they craved fresh game as much as anyone (and paid well for it, too) - they wouldn’t be able to ignore that.   
In the autumn, Nico had seen a few people run into the woods to harvest apples, though had had never gone out of sight of the Field. Always close enough to run back if they needed to. “District Twelve,” Nico muttered. “Where you can starve to death in safety.” He quickly glanced over his shoulder. Even out here, you didn’t know who might be listening.  
When Nico was younger, he scared his mother and sister to death, spouting off random things about the district, about Terra (the country they lived in), and Olympus, the far off ruling city of the nation. Eventually, Nico figured out that would only get them in more trouble, and learned to hold his tongue, and to create a mask of indifference so no one knew what he was thinking. He did his school work quietly. Made only polite small talk at the market. Discuss little more than trades at the Styx, the black market where Nico made most of his money. Even when he’s at home, where he’s a little less restrained, he avoids topics that are considered tricky- like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Hazel might accidentally repeat something he says, and then where would they be?  
Sitting on a rock at the top of a grassy hill is the only person that Nico trusts himself to be himself around; Reyna. He smiles at the sight of her, remembering the time she said off-handedly she’d never seen him smile except for in the woods. He comes up beside her and sits down on the same large rock she is. She side eyes him, and offers a handful of berries picked from the thicket behind her. “Hey, Neeks,” she said. Nico rolled his eyes at the nickname, but broke out in a wide disbelieving grin when he saw what was in her other hand. “Oh, no way,” he says, laughing.  
She grins back, holding up a loaf of bread with an arrow in it. “Look what I shot,” she said. Nico looks at the bread in her hand. It’s real bakery bread, not the hard flat stuff that gets made with tesserae, the grain rations that get handed out to some people in the district. Nico pulls the bread from her hand, takes out the arrow and holds the puncture to his nose and inhaling the scent of fine, fresh bread. Bread for a special occasion.   
“Still warm,” Nico says. He looks at Reyna’s face, and notices that she looks tired. She would’ve had to have been up at the crack of dawn to trade for this.  
“What did it cost ya?”  
“Just a squirrel,” Reyna said. “Think the old lady was feeling sentimental this morning. She even wished me luck.”  
Nico rolls his eyes and snorts. “Well, we all feel a little closer today, don’t we?” He pulls the cheese from his pocket. “Hazel left us some goat’s cheese.”  
Reyna perks up at the sight of it. “Thank you, Hazel!” She said. “We’ll have a real feast today, Neeks.” She then falls into the ridiculous Olympian accent, mimicking Hestia Hearth, the maniacally happy woman who reads out the names at the reaping every year. She plucks a few more berries from the bush, and throws one toward Nico’s mouth. He catches it, and the sweet taste of the berry is unimaginably good. “And may the odds-“ Reyna says in a high-pitched Olympian accent- “be ever in your favour!” Nico finishes in the same voice, before both burst out laughing.   
Nico watches Reyna as she slices the bread for them to eat. Her hair is braided over her shoulder, and the dark brown colour reminds him of his and Bianca’s. She even has the same dark brown eyes and olive skin they do; they aren’t related, at least not closely, but then again, most everyone in Asphodel looks the same. Hazel doesn’t look like her siblings; Nico and Bianca’s mother was from Asphodel, just like their father, but Hazel’s mother was from the richer, merchant side of town. Marie had been a clairvoyant/witch that had helped people in need. She’d used medicinal herbs and ‘spells’ to heal people. Since most people in District 12 couldn’t afford a doctor, people like Marie were in high demand. Nico’s father used to come across all sorts of herbs and plants that he sold to Marie to help her out, and eventually they fell in love. Not long after, Hazel had been born, and Nico adored his little sister more than anything, although she stuck out in the Asphodel crowd.   
Reyna spreads the soft cheese onto the bread, and Nico strips the bush of berries, before they both burrow down, out of view form unwanted eyes. From here, they have a perfect view of the valley, teeming with life; fresh greens ready to be gathered, roots to be dug up, fish sparkling, iridescent in the sunlight. Nico closes his eyes and sighs. The day is almost perfect. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, and the breeze is warm. If only this day off just meant roaming through the woods with Reyna, just relaxing and hunting and having fun. But instead, they have to be standing in the square by two, waiting for the two poor souls names to be called, ready to go to their deaths.  
“We could do it, y’know,” Reyna says quietly.   
Nico opens his eyes, and looks over at Reyna. Her face is serious and drawn. “What?” He says.  
“Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and me, we could make it,” she says.  
Nico draws his eyebrows together, and opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure how to respond.  
“If we didn’t have so many kids,” she added quickly.  
They didn’t actually have kids; Nico knew Reyna was referring to Hazel, Bianca and Reyna’s siblings, Hylla and Gwen, her older and younger sister respectively, and Dakota, her younger brother. As well as Reyna’s father, because he wouldn’t survive without her. None of them would. Nico and Reyna’s hunts were what kept them fed and alive, and even then, with Nico and Reyna’s daily hunting, they still sometimes had to swap game for supplies like clothes or lard or wool, meaning sometimes they still went hungry.   
“I never want to have kids,” Nico says.  
“I might,” Reyna said thoughtfully. “Someday. If I didn’t live here.”  
“But you do live here,” Nico said irritably.   
“Forget it,” she snaps back.   
Nico shifts uncomfortably. The conversation feels wrong to him; he would never leave Hazel (or Bianca), and Reyna is devoted to her family. He isn’t even sure where the conversation had sprung from; there wasn’t anything romantic between him and Reyna (the thought made his stomach squirm uncomfortably). When they met, he was a skinny, malnourished thirteen year old, trying to cope with his father’s death and provide for his nine year old sister who was slowly wasting away, and his sixteen year old sister who had just given up on life after their dad died. Although Reyna was only two years older than Nico, she already looked like a woman; she was tall and strong, and kind of terrifying. It took a long time for them to even become friends, to stop haggling over game and every single trade and actually begin to help each other out.   
Besides, Reyna would have no trouble finding a guy if she was so inclined toward having children. She was pretty, and Nico had heard the way boys (and the occasional girl) had talked about her when she went past in school. It made Nico irritable, but not for the reason people assumed.  
Good hunting partners were hard to find.   
“What do you wanna do?” Nico asks. They could fish, gather, hunt, and do anything, really.  
“Let’s fish at the lake,” Reyna says. “We can leave our poles and gather some greens at the same time. Something nice for tonight.”  
After the reaping every year, people were expected to celebrate. And most did, they celebrated their children being spared for at least one more year. But at least two houses would close their shutters, and mourn their child, every year. Hazel had nightmares that this year, every year, it would be either their house or Reyna’s. Nico knew those fears weren’t entirely unfounded.   
They do well that day. The predators tend to ignore them when there’s easier, unarmed prey about. By late morning, they have a dozen fish, a big bag of greens, and best of all, a big quantity of strawberries. Nico found the patch a couple years ago, but Reyna’d had the idea to place mesh nets around it to keep the animals off it.   
On their way home, they stop by the Styx, the black market that operate from an old warehouse that used to store coal, until they decided to just use trains to transport to the districts straight from the mine. Most businesses are closed on reaping day by this point, but Styx is still fairly busy. Nico easily trades six of the fish for good bread, another two for salt. Harpy, an old woman who sells soup out of a kettle in the Styx, takes half the greens for a couple chunks of paraffin. Nico knew they might do better elsewhere, but it was a good idea to stay in Harpy’s good graces; she was a reliable sell for wild dog (not that they ever killed them willingly; but when you get attacked, well, meat is meat). “Once it’s in the stew, we’ll call it steak,” she says every time, winking at Nico and Reyna. No one in Asphodel would turn up their nose at some good dog meat, but the Peacekeepers could afford to be a bit choosier.  
Once they finish up at the Styx, they go to the back door of the mayor Dionysus’ house to sell half the strawberries, knowing he has a certain fondness for them and can afford their price. His son, Pollux opens the door. He’s in Nico’s year at school. He’s not snobby, like you would expect from the mayor’s son. He’s just quiet. Since neither he nor Nico appear to have friends, they eat together a lot at lunch. They rarely talk, which suits them both just fine. Today his plain school outfit has been replaced by a crisp white shirt and pants, and his hair has been styled neatly to the side. Reaping outfit.  
“Nice shirt,” Reyna says.   
Pollux shoots her a look, trying to gage if Reyna’s being serious or sarcastic. It is a nice shirt, but he wouldn’t normally wear it. He presses his lips together then smiles. “Well, if I’m gonna go to Olympus I wanna look nice, don’t I?”  
Reyna’s now the one to look confused. “What can you have?” she says. “Five entries? I had six when I was twelve years old.”  
“That’s not his fault, Rey,” Nico says.  
“No, it’s not,” Reyna says. “Just stating the way it is.”   
Pollux’s face has become smooth and closed off, and he hands Nico the money for the berries. “Good luck, Nico,” he says.  
“You too,” Nico replies, before the door shuts in their faces.  
Nico and Reyna walk toward Asphodel in silence. Nico doesn’t like that Reyna took a dig at Pollux, but she was right. The reaping system was highly unfair, mainly to the poor. Once you turn twelve, you become eligible for the reaping, and your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. So on and so forth until you reach eighteen, the last year you are eligible, when you are entered seven times. That’s the rule for every citizen of Terra, in all twelve districts.   
But there’s a catch; say you are poor and starving, like most of District 12. You can opt to add your name in more times, in exchange for tesserae, one of which is worth a measly years’ worth of grain and oil for one person. You can add your name in once for yourself and then for your family members. So at the age of twelve, Nico had had his name entered four times; once because he had to, then for himself, Bianca and Hazel (his father had refused to let him enter once more for him). Nico has had to this every year, and because the points are cumulative, this year at the age of sixteen, Nico has his name entered twenty times. Reyna, who is eighteen and has been helping/single-handedly feeding a family of five for seven years, will have her name in forty-two times.   
Nico knew that was why Pollux set her off so easily. He’d never needed tesserae, so the chances of his name being drawn are very slim compared to those in Asphodel.  
Reyna knows her anger at Pollux is misdirected. In the woods, Nico has heard her yell and rant about the unfairness of everything, how horrible the system the Olympians have set up is. About how the tesserae are another tool to divide them, make them mistrust each other. She’s right of course; that’s one reason Nico lets her yell. Better in the safety of the forest, than in the district where she’ll be heard, despite the fact it chases off game and isn’t really productive toward anything.   
They split the spoils, each getting two fish, a couple loaves of good bread, greens, a handful of strawberries and a little bit of money.  
“See you in the square,” Nico says as they part ways.  
“Wear something nice,” Reyna replies flatly.  
When he gets home, Nico sees that Hazel and Bianca are ready to go. Bianca wears one of their mother’s old dresses from when she was a teenager and Hazel is dressed in Bianca’s first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse, though it’s a little big. Even though Bianca’s managed to get it to stay with pins, a little bit if the blouse is having trouble staying in at the back. Bianca has left a tub of warm water in the room, and Nico scrubs himself clean of the woods, and even washes his hair, before reaching for his father’s old suit Bianca had laid out for him. This is special; their father’s old things are normally packed away and treasured; the fact Bianca has taken it out for him actually means a lot. It fits him well. “Are you sure?” Nico asks. After their father died and Bianca had started to come back to life, as it were, Nico had been very angry at her, and rejected any offer of help she gave him, despite the fact she was a gifted huntress and better with a bow than he was. He was trying to get over it; she was still his sister, and he did love her.   
“Of course,” she says. “We’ll even cut your hair.”  
Nico can barely recognise himself in the dirty, cracked mirror on the wall when she’s done.  
“You look like dad,” he hears Bianca breathe.  
“You look handsome!” Hazel squeals.  
“And nothing like myself,” he says smiling. He hugs Hazel close, because he knows these next few hours will be terrifying for her. Her first reaping. She’s about as safe as she can be, with her name only entered once. Nico wouldn’t let her enter it more for tesserae. But she’s worried about him, Nico knows. Bianca is too. She’s nineteen, so she isn’t eligible anymore. Which means Hazel will always have at least one person there for her.  
Nico tries to protect Hazel as much as he can, but he’s powerless against the reaping. His chest starts to hurt, the same way it always does when he thinks of Hazel in pain. He sees her blouse sticking out at the back, and tucks it in again. “Tuck your tail in, little duck,” he says, forcing himself to stay calm.  
Hazel giggles, giving Nico a small ‘quack’ making him laugh. “Come on, let’s eat,” Nico says, kissing the top of Hazel’s head.   
The fish and greens are cooking in a stew for tonight’s supper, and the strawberries and bread are gonna be saved to go with it. So they eat flat tesserae bread and drink milk from Hazel’s goat, Arion.  
At one o’clock, they head for the square, one of the only places in District 12 that can be quite nice, especially on a nice day when there’s a market. Today, with the camera crews and Olympus officials everywhere, it has a grim feel to it.   
Bianca goes to stand on the outside of the square with all the other non-eligible people in the district, while Nico and Hazel go to sign in. Different age groups are cordoned into different areas, oldest at the front, youngest at the back, and Hazel goes to stand with Dakota, Reyna’s twelve-year-old brother. Nico sees Bianca standing with Reyna’s father, Hylla (who is twenty-one) and Gwen (who is eleven). He goes to stand with the other sixteen-year-olds form Asphodel, and sees Reyna looking back at him. He nods to her, and she nods back, before turning back to the front. Nico hadn’t realized, but the square was almost full, which meant they were about to start. Nico focusses on the small temporary stage set up in front of the Justice Building. On it are two glass balls with names in them, one for boys and one for girls. Nico knows that there are twenty slips of paper saying ‘Nico di Angelo’ in careful handwriting, but he fixates on the girl’s one, where he knows there are forty-two slips with ‘Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano’ and one with ‘Hazel Levesque’. There are also three chairs on the stage, two of which hold Mayor Dionysus, and Hestia Hearth, the Olympian representative. At two o’clock, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to drone on about the history of Terra, the same story every year. He speaks of how there used to be thirteen districts, but that they rebelled and were destroyed 74 years ago by the leader of Olympus at that time, Kronos. Since then, Olympus had ruled peacefully over the remaining twelve districts, but as penance for District 13’s rebellion and the support that had been given by the other twelve, the Hunger Games were created. Once a year, each district gave a boy and a girl between twelve and eighteen in tribute to fight to the death, until a lone victor remained. Over the last seventy-three years it had gone on it had turned into entertainment for the Olympians, and a huge deal was made over the tributes. Nico zoned out during the mayor’s speech, only tuning back in when he heard Hestia’s heels clicking toward the podium. He looked up and saw her smiling at the crowd. “What a rousing speech!” She said excitedly. The crowd stared back at her silently, and Nico caught Reyna’s eye. She rolled her eyes, and he rolled his in response. Both grinned before directing their attention back to Hestia. She deflated slightly, realizing that the crowd was feeling rather grim, but she brightened up again. “Normally, we’d do this ladies first, but I decided to mix things up a little and draw our gentleman tribute first today!” She said, clapping her hands a little. Nico’s brows drew together a little, but he shrugged mentally. It made no difference; a male and female tribute would still be sent to their deaths. Hestia reached into the boy’s ball, rifling through the slips of paper. Nico’s heart rate picked up a little; there were hundreds of slips in there, and only twenty held his name- but there was still a chance he might be picked.  
Hestia finished rifling through the bowl and fished out one slip. She stepped up to the mic, cleared her throat, and read out the name.  
It wasn’t Nico.  
It was Dakota Ramirez-Arellano, Reyna’s brother.


End file.
